


Of Course

by prettyvk



Series: Ink Your Name 'verse [12]
Category: Sherlock (TV)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-02-16
Updated: 2020-02-16
Packaged: 2021-02-27 20:20:56
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 728
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22761619
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/prettyvk/pseuds/prettyvk
Summary: I'd written this for my (short lived, now defunct) patreon, and almost forgot about posting it here.With my eternal thanks for all the reviews I never find time to reply to but appreciate nonetheless.
Series: Ink Your Name 'verse [12]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/100784
Comments: 52
Kudos: 277





	Of Course

**Author's Note:**

> I'd written this for my (short lived, now defunct) patreon, and almost forgot about posting it here.
> 
> With my eternal thanks for all the reviews I never find time to reply to but appreciate nonetheless.

Mycroft raises one eloquent eyebrow.

“I see,” he says simply, and Sherlock can hear a dozen, a hundred different comments in those two words.

‘Why on Earth would you want to do that?’ is probably at the top of the list.

‘John already agreed to take care of you, there’s no need for this,’ is probably a close second.

‘It’s only one more thing for you to forget ever happened,’ might be the most cruel, but it doesn’t make it any less true.

Sherlock can hear those unvoiced words, and so many more, because he’s thought them himself. He’s even made a list in his diary - the one John never reads. At the end, the list counted seventy-two items. And opposite that list, a different one held sixty-seven counters: the number of times John asked the question over a period of two years before Sherlock finally asked the question to him instead.

“If that’s what you want,” Mycroft adds after a few seconds. “What you both want.”

“It is,” Sherlock says, holding Mycroft’s gaze without flinching. Once upon a life, he might have felt ashamed to admit the depth of his feelings for John to anyone, let alone Mycroft. That was before September 5th. Before he learned - and learned, and relearned, and relearned countless times - that John loves him. Soon, he’ll wear the tangible proof of that love on his finger. It won’t make John’s love any different, but Sherlock still looks forward to it.

“I’m guessing you came here to tell me so I can make the arrangements?” Mycroft says, and while he makes it sound like a question, he looks sure of himself. He’s already reaching for a pen and paper on his desk, jotting down what Sherlock guesses is the beginning of a to-do list. That’s his brother, all right. As ever practical, even when he doesn’t approve of Sherlock’s choices.

“If you can expedite the administrative minutia, we’d both be grateful, yes,” Sherlock says, barely managing to keep his voice level. “But that’s not why I’m here.”

The tip of Mycroft’s fountain pen stops on the paper. Ink spreads around it before he catches himself and lifts it. He looks at Sherlock, a flash of worry followed by something that looks like incredulity. Sherlock leans back in his chair and doesn’t bother hiding his smile, knowing it’ll confirm Mycroft’s worst suspicions.

“You can’t be serious,” Mycroft sputters.

Sherlock’s smile widens just a little more. He thought this would be tedious, but he’s rather enjoying himself.

“Isn’t there anyone else?” Mycroft asks, now more than a little alarmed. “What about the detective... what was his name... Lestrade?”

There are many things Sherlock has forgotten, over and over, but he recalls with perfect clarity his brother’s mouth twisting in distaste at the thought that Sherlock had friends. To now realize that he himself is one of them appears to be too much for him. Sherlock hasn’t had this much fun in a long time - at least, as far as he recalls.

“John is asking Lestrade to be his best man as we speak,” Sherlock says. “But even if he chose someone else, I wouldn’t.”

Mycroft’s mouth opens, works soundlessly for a second or two. His wide-eyed expression is priceless. Oh, how Sherlock wishes he could have filmed this to see it again and again...

“Why?” Mycroft finally manages to ask, choking a little on the word. “Why me, of all people?”

He sounds genuinely baffled. Sherlock keeps smiling, but there’s no teasing in his words when he says, “Because you’re my brother. Who better to stand by my side?”

Mycroft resumes his impersonation of a fish out of water, and Sherlock starts to worry a little. What if Mycroft says no? Who else could he possibly ask? He’s marrying his best friend, so asking him is out of the question. Lestrade is taken as he said, but really Sherlock only ever considered one person. 

“I’m sure you don’t approve,” he says very low, staring at the ink stain on the paper in front of Mycroft rather than meeting his brother’s eyes. “It’s the ultimate demonstration of sentiment, I suppose, and an antiquated custom at best. But I was hoping just this once--”

“Of course,” Mycroft says suddenly. He repeats the words, softer now. “Of course, Sherlock.”

They keep it at that. Everything is said, isn’t it?


End file.
